


Deadmen running

by SilverGopher



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-12-10 03:35:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11683182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverGopher/pseuds/SilverGopher
Summary: My Mandolorian fanfic, really love mandalorians, thought id write a story for em





	Deadmen running

 Manda'yaim saru trattok'oru.

No one could call Vale of clan Fett beautiful. No-one but a mandalorian. others see scares as signs of weakness victim hood, marks of shame. mandolorians of the old way view them as one of the most beautiful expressions of a persons story. They tell of victory and hard won battles, tales of pain and sorrow made flesh. And Vale of clan Fett had a lot of scars. Blaster burns scattered on her arms, thin hard lines on her knuckles, curling lines splitting the right of her lip.  A life hard lived and hard fought. To a mandalorian she would be beautiful, though they'd never say it. No Mando had killed enough to rival her, exceptionalism for mand'alor himself. clad in her Beskar'gam her gender is indistinguishable, except for when she removes her helmet. Her armor is worn and dented but cared for painted orange with tattered black edging, telling of a lust for life pleasures and hardships and mourning lost mandalore. the armor was a light suit, the cuirass and greaves over a jumpsuit, guantlets armed, and holsters on a thick gun belt. if she removed her helm her hair was shorn short in a fiery red undercut, and her face had a smattering of freckles. her eyes were a piercing green hidden behind wire rimmed glasses. 

The extranet was a useful tool for a beroya, an entire universe of target and bounties. it really was so much easier than going to an imperial bounty office or slumming in a hutt'un palace. the only problem is how often these contracts lie about their difficulty. Vale was hunting a radian named Ankar Vaten, wanted for murder, skullduggery and arson. the hunt was supposed to be easy, then the prey ran. and like a good hunter vale followed. Ankar was an expeirienced runner and he hoped planets as quickly and erratically as possible. Vale hunted in the old way and spent weeks interrogating the people he left behind, and occasionally stacking the corpses of some local thugs he hired to slow her down.  twelve worlds she had chased him from Rodia to coruscant. he was smart enough to avoid the outer rim, everyone fled there, but coruscant was not the best choice. like all prey he fled to level 1313, the criminal hubworld, so Vale followed him. The buildings towered around Vale hemming her into a world of steel and shadow.  the smells of industrial wast, blaster fire, and blood wafted on the breeze created by a slowly whirring fan. crowds chattered in multitudes always casting eyes over there shoulders waiting for a gunfight to break out. the crowd split around her, showing the deference due to a proper mandalorian. she scanned the crowd, paying particular attention to the rodians sprinkled throughout. the facial recognition software in her HUD was top of the line and it only took her a second to write someone off as unimportant. the crowd was starting to get to her after so long spent in the void between the stars, so she accesed the extranet. Music, low so that she can hear any who might sneak up on her, foolish as that might be. she followed a group of rodian thugs into a nearby bar, knowing that offworlders tended to stick together. the bar tender offered her a rough greeting, "great day to buy a drink, eh?" Vale cast her glance over the crowd and found her target, surrounded by a group of his allies, she supposed. "ib'tuur jatne tour ash's kyr'amur." she offered in reply s she pulled the blaster from her left hip. it slithered against the leather, and the comforting weight of one of blasted greatest achievements settled in her hand. her shot book the stillness with a whine, and mixed ozone with the smells of booze and blood. Ankar Vatt hit the table with a thud and his allies jumped to there feet grasping at there sides for there own blasters, and they hit the ground in a flurry of red and a cluster of screams. nobody tried to interrupt the mandalorian as she claimed Ankar Vatts head with the vibroblade in her gauntlet. as she threaded her way the crowd parted as before, but where they had stared as was only natural, now they turned there gaze. the stench of blood trailed behind Vale as she walked her way back to the old freighter she called home. when mandalore fell to the new mandatories clan fett led the true mandalorians to the stars that there name wouldn't be forgotten. but a fued with clan villa led to the end of the true mandalorians and clan fett was scattered, some earned renown. Her clan brother Bobba had shed enough blood to be Lord Vader's personal hunter. but word was he had taken residence in a hutt palace. Steady work, but honorless. as far as Vale was concerned she was the last living member of clan Fett. she could take the turbo lift to the capital level, and turn it in an hour quicker, but Vale disliked being away from her ship. the trip was longer and the docking was rough, the converters thumped and flared. when she reached the capital level the crowd parted. some screamed and quite a few high society, the only thing that kept them from call security was her manalorian armor. the people here were soft, they had forgotten the horror of the mandalorian scourge. they viewed Vale not as a terrifying killing machine marching in lockstep with thousands, putting the galaxy to the sword. no mandalore had fallen low and the new mandalorians had erased there terror there history there honor. now those who kept the  Resol'nare were nothing more than hired guns. the head was traded for a handful of credits she didn't need, bouncing them in her palm as she paced her way back to her ship.


End file.
